


Bedside Manner

by brittle_antimony



Series: In Honor of the New York Times: ABO Ficlets [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Harry Potter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ficlet, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Omega Severus Snape, Scent Kink, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittle_antimony/pseuds/brittle_antimony
Summary: Hermione was wrong about alphas. They weren't obsessed with omegas; it was just interesting.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: In Honor of the New York Times: ABO Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758991
Comments: 20
Kudos: 246





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione was wrong about alphas. They weren't obsessed with omegas; it was just interesting. People were one thing for ages and then they were something else, something more, but it had to be kept secret because of — something. Social mores or whatever, like how pregnant women used to not go out in public, because then people would know they'd had sex with their husbands. As if people didn't know anyway.

And hadn't Sirius called Snape Malfoy's lapdog? Basically calling him a bitch, Harry reckoned, practically just one degree away from what Hermione called gendered slurs. And Sirius would know, wouldn't he, what Snape looked like down there, what with James stripping him in front of the whole school and all.

And Remus had got Neville to dress Snape up like a woman, too.

Maybe Hermione was wrong about alphas in general, but Harry thought, what with the Marauders being three alphas and a beta, she might have been onto something with that group in particular.

But Harry wasn't obsessed with omegas. He just thought it was interesting that Snape might be one.

Not wise to think about while sitting next to a mind-reader's bed, but this particular mind-reader was sleeping (and would argue about the mind reading, besides).

It was just that he smelled nice. Really, really nice.

Harry hadn't noticed at first — there had been blood, poison, the clinging stink of snake — and of course having just died was distracting, and the potential for Snape to die as well. And… and everyone else who didn't make it to the infirmary.

Harry scooted his chair closer. Snape was still so pale, but then the bastard was always pale. He should go out more. Someone should take him out more, somewhere nice, sunny, lay him down against the grass, pin him, lick his neck —

Right, the neck that still had to be drained and would be roped with scars once all was done. Right. That neck.

Harry didn't mind scars. That would be hypocritical, and Hermione disapproved of hypocrisy, so Harry endeavored to avoid it. They could make skin kind of interesting, probably, he thought. He'd never licked anyone, but wouldn't it be pleasant to have some topographical variety? Definitely. Everyone's always going on about that.

And about how omegas like strong alphas, too. Well, Harry would never mention it, of course, but he had briefly been the Master of Death. That probably counted for something. And he was great at flying, and probably stronger than Snape, since he was so short and had been comatose for a few days. If Harry carried Snape around, would that be impressive?

No, Snape would kill him.

Unless —

No.

Harry reached out and touched Snape's hand. After a moment, he intertwined their fingers.

He cleared his throat. "Well, you'll want to hear about the news, I reckon. Kingsley says…"


	2. Chapter 2

Thirst. Eyes dry and sticky. No pain, but fuzz of potions.

While moving his eyes behind closed lids, he twitched his fingers and toes. Somewhat swollen, but responsive.

He stilled, listening.

Shifting cloth. Distant birdsong. Soft, slow breathing to his side. And, in the opposite direction to the birds, the tinny sound of Poppy's ancient wireless she refused to replace.

It was over, then.

Albus was wrong.

Before the emotion could give him away, he shuttered it behind shields. 

He was still alive, so he would go on. He must; to stop would be...  
Someone else must have lived; there would be a resistance. They would need information, and if the Death Eaters had found and healed him, then they must not know--

"Snape?"

Oh. That voice.

So he was dead after all. How strange.

"Snape, hey, are you awake again?" said Potter.

Severus opened his eyes to see Harry Potter grinning down at him.

"Before you ask, Voldemort's dead, we're alive, Fawkes healed you (and wouldn't let anyone touch you until they got me), er. I've been on Kingsley about getting you a pardon." Potter shrugged. "That's about it."

"Water."

Potter positioned a goblet with a bendy straw at his lips, a practiced move. Severus drank it all.

While Potter set it down, Severus let his eyes close. "Poppy," he rasped.

From the cacophony that followed, Severus assumed that Potter crashed into at least one piece of furniture that had been in place since before his birth. But the boy returned with Poppy shortly.

"Out, Mr. Potter," Severus breathed.

Potter, surprisingly, left. He listened to the retreating footsteps, always so light, and waited until the door closed.

When he looked up at Poppy, he quirked an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes. "Don't you start with me, Severus."

He hummed and closed his eyes. "How many students?"

"Eight," she said. "Minerva has the list for you, including injuries, but it's none of your business until you're well."

"We disagree on that," he whispered. "When will that be?"

"A week," she said sternly. "At least."

This, for some reason, made his eyes water. Twenty-four years of sneaking away from her care, and still she tried.

He looked up into her eyes.

"Stop that. You can't--oh!" She turned away and dabbed her eyes. "You horrible man."

Deciding on mercy, he changed the topic. "Potter."

She turned back. "What about him?" she asked wryly.

Severus gestured minutely at the door. "What the fuck is wrong with him?"

He watched helplessly as she bent over laughing. It couldn't be that funny. "Oh, you'll hate it," she said, once she straightened. "And I am sorry, of course. But, well. There's no research on how your blockers interact with the treatment you need, so he's a little pheromone sick."

There were too many objections to be made, point by point, and his throat aleady hurt. He stared.

"You're right; it isn't funny at all," she said, her voice wavering suspiciously.

"He's high?" Poppy covered her mouth. "You let an alpha puppy scent my unconscious body to--why?"

She sobered instantly and settled into the seat that, apparently, Potter lived in. "You were never in any danger, Severus. I hope you trust me enough to accept that." He looked at her. "To be honest, I didn't want him to be alone in that awful house. He declined Molly's invitation, saying that he needed to, well. Severus, he needs to feel useful."

"I'm tired," he huffed finally, closing his eyes. "Alpha Settling Solution."

She was quiet for a long moment, but then she rose. "Alright, Severus. If you stay the full week, we have a deal."

He pretended not to hear her. She would do as he asked without his capitulation, for they both knew his agreement would be a lie.


End file.
